8th Grade Year
by demonwolfkid
Summary: 8th grade has started from the Patroller's and changes are in order, see what the kids have in store with the new year


**This is either going to be a quick one shot or a series of smaller one shots slightly connected through the use to memorable characters, all depends on the reviews from you people!**

_**Today's Episode, New Beginnings.**_

Act 1-The New Year

It was a regular day at the office. Ingrid Third was making her way through a stack of folders, case files that had yet to be complied and submitted for the new commissioner, Bucky Lasalle.

Bucky himself was making his third annual trip around the office, a nervous habit he had established throughout the first month of school. He was a new transfer kid at the beginning, slipping in with the confusion of the new school year and thus not having to deal with the initial new kid razzing that Ingrid had had to endure. His transfer into the X Middle School Safety Patrol had gone through without a hitch and by the end of the first week Folsom had established that he was set to be introduced as the new Comish, something at none of the newly appointed 8th graders minded all too much.

Most of the Patrol didn't have a problem with him, he was likeable enough, and only got harsh when it came to deadlines, something that they had figured out wasn't as much a thing that he cared for them, his constant procrastination on his own files proved as much, but the fact that Principle Folsom had put in a new policy on the ever piling case files.

In a attempt to have more turned in on time she had promised that the team with the most on file would get a whole month off, in separate weeks of course, or, as she had said to the group, if it was the ever expensive duo of budget expenses they would get a whipped clean slate and a no yelling pass for a month. AND if they managed to have everyone turning in all their case files within 30 days of the initial date they had solved the case by the end of the first semester they could have a secondary coco machine installed and get the Glee Club out of their office.

It was a promising offer, one that a number of the more frequented safety patrollers were looking forward to. Thing was, they didn't have Ingrid Third on their side. With her photographic memory it was a simple task to compile all of the information needed for a simple case file. Even before the deal had been made she had had the record for top number turned in with the Anza-Tehama team in a close second.

"Ingrid," Bucky's voice said, his steady tone bringing her out of her thoughts of last weeks sticky situation in the schools auditorium out of focus. She looked up at him quickly, eyes wide and pencil on hand as her partner snickered from his desk to the side.

Shooting him a glare she responded with her form of grace, "Yeah Bucky?"

"You and Fillmore have the Razzing today," he said then paused to look at them each in turn, "Mind explaining what that is?"

"It's the intro for the new kids," Fillmore explained as he leaned on his desk, the ever present bunny mug in hand, "It's how the new kids get introduced into X."

"Strange school," Bucky muttered, "anyways, it's at the end of the day, we're supposed to be on guard duty or something."

"On it," Ingrid responded as she tapped some papers down and added it to the latest file. "Come on Fillmore, I herd the lunchroom is having a special on their tatter tots. First come, first serve."

"Dog, you already finish those files?" he questioned unnecessarily as he followed her to the door.

"You know it."

**Across campus at locker number 356**

The newest arrival to X Middle School opened her locker having just arrived late for her unofficial first day of school, only to discover the Welcome Wagon girl within the midst of it.

"Um, sorry?" she asked taking a step backwards as to avoid the ultra-preppy girl.

"It's no problemo silly!" she said as she gave her a bright smile shoving a greeting basket into her hands. "I'm Sherri Shatler from the X Middle School Welcome Wagon, here to say, Welcome to X Middle School Abigail!"

"It's Abby," she responded almost immediately as she took out a X shaped cookie from the basket, eying it curiously, "and thanks, I guess."

"No problemo," she responded still smiling, "It's our job to welcome all new students and then to direct them to the main office which is that-a-way," she said pointing to the right.

"Thanks," Abby responded placing the cookie back in the plastic wrapping, "Can you move? I kind of in need of a place to put this."

"Oh sure honey!" she said as she moved to the side, hands behind her back as she watched Abby's every movement, the smile never straying from her face.

"Uh-hu," Abby said making an annoyed face in the safety of the shadow of her locker before reappearing, "now where's the office?"

"Take the first right on your right then a left," came the reply.

"Thanks," she said turning away

"No problemo!" Abby just grimaced.

She walked to the office, a different office from the one she had first gone to and received her schedule, all the while wondering if the whole situation was some cruel plot to make every single new student come in contact with the annoying welcome girl. It wouldn't be surprising.

She was given a map and a pressed suggestion of pinpointing all of her classes ahead of time so she spent the next half a hour wandering the halls after grabbing a quick bite to eat at the lunchroom before returning to the office where she sat and waited. That's what she got for coming two hours early, not that she had wanted to, her mother had pressed the fact.

Stepping out of the office some time later she was welcomed by a motorized extended golf cart, or at least that's the name she put to the thing as she saw it.

"Hello Abby," said the overly nice Principal Folsom once she had seated herself, "I would like to personally welcome you to X Middle School, where we strive for excellence. We hope to welcome you here where you can receive a fresh start and hope that your," she paused and took in Abby's dark clothing and obvious annoyed attitude, "bad habits, from you last school don't transfer over here."

"Of course not," Abby responded politely as she looked at the principal taking in her obvious distaste for her in one second. It wasn't too surprising, she could tell within seconds that, per usual, she wouldn't be fitting in quickly at this new school. Her darker clothing, a simple black t-shirt and jeans with her ever present checkered wrist band didn't fit in with the bright and cheerful colors of X.

Principal Folsom just kept smiling as Abby's distaste for the school grew, a few minutes later she was lead from the cart into a auditorium where she was left behind a curtain.

"Good afternoon students, we are here to welcome a new student to X Middle School. She is a unique individual who I am sure all of you will do your best to welcome, now, I give you, Abigail McMath!"

At which point Abby was shoved out onto the stage. Her initial stage fright forgotten she made her way to the awaiting principal not bothering to put on a fake smile, because she knew she reeked at it.

"Now, Abigail-"

"Abby, it's Abby," she interrupted. At the glare that she received for interrupting the principal she shut up.

"Abigail, for the next 90 seconds the entire student body is going to pelt you with semi-rigid foam balls," she said, the sweetness of her town gone.

"_Great,_" she said stressing the word so that only Folsom could hear her as the pelting began.

She indured it for the full 90 seconds and was slightly surprised when a mic was placed infront of her. She smirked and spoke clearly into it, "You know, I've been to a lot of places in the past months, I have to say, this school reeks."

With that she turned to walk off the stage catching sight of the three present safety patrollers.

One of which was smirking.

A smirk grew on her face in turn, but as she walked pass the trio she gave no indication to knowing the smirking individual.

Act 2-Old Friends, Business As Usual

**Two days later**

Abby walked from lunch to her next class. Her new girl status along with her unpredictable speech at the introduction ceremony combined with her obvious appearance put her out of place with the social cliques. Though to be frank, she had absolutely no problem with that.

She walked to a water fountain and paused to take a sip of the cold tap water, whipping her mouth on her wrist as she turned around a moment later to look straight in the face of none other than Ingrid Third.

"Ingrid," she greeted dropping her arm.

"Abby," Ingrid greeted in turn.

"Didn't think I'd run into you again," Abby said as they fell into step together, walking in the direction of the gyms. The lunch bell had just rung, but the majority of the student body had already made their way there by this point in time so the halls were relatively empty.

"Same to you," Ingrid said, "Brings back old memories seeing you around the halls."

"But this isn't like old times right Ingrid?" Abby asked eying her suspiciously, "You're a belt now."

"Nice observation," Ingrid responded stopping, "you still into the business?"

"Yeah, but same conditions as usual," Abby responded easily stuffing her hands into her pockets, "no on school deals, and I won't tell who I sell too, but that doesn't mean I won't hand out hints to the patrollers. Just depends on who's askin'."

"That's what got you in trouble in the first place," Ingrid responded smiling, "They thought you helped out on all of our old pranks."

"Your old pranks," Abby corrected rolling her eyes, "and that's one of the rules, you know that, I don't want to know, when, where, how or what, I just sell you the goods. What you do with them is up to you."

"You really believe anybody trusts that?" Ingrid asked turning on her, "Nobody would believe it even though you're speaking the truth."

Abby sighed, "Which is why you've come to me, you want me to start reporting into you belts, so you guys have a inside source right?" she questioned, "You know, you where a whole lot more original when you were on the other side of the law Third."

"That was then, this is now, are you going to help us out or not?" Ingrid asked. At Abby's annoyed look she sighed placing a hand on her shoulder, "I don't want you to become the enemy, and I don't want you to get into trouble Abbs." She smiled, "I owe you that much."

Abby looked at her for a long moment and turned away, "I'll think about it Ing, but I'm no snitch," she said finally, "I'll talk to ya later."

"Okay, just try to tell me soon, you know, before something big goes down," Ingrid pleaded as Abby began walking away, "I don't want this to mess up our friendship."

"No promises."

Not even a day later reports came into the Safety Patrol office about a joke dealer. A person the student delinquents were getting their supplies from, and cheep. Ingrid wasn't a fool, and neither was her partner, though at the moment, that wasn't the first thing on her mind.

Cornelius Fillmore could tell something was up with his partner. It had been in the works for the last couple of days, since they had seen the new girl Abby get welcomed into the school via X's odd tradition. Since then Ingrid had been edgy, checking into all the prime suspect places more than usual, even for her. She had been fidgety and distracted, and the newest report just added to the cake.

"Fillmore, Ingrid, you'd better get over here," Tehama's voice rang over the radio early on Wednesday.

"What's up?" Ingrid asked as they got up from their desks, Fillmore shooting a curious glance over at her that didn't go unnoticed.

"A shooter, and a good one," was the response and Ingrid and Fillmore exchanged a glance.

Shooters weren't near as common at X than a lot of other things. Sure everything came in turn but most people preferred the safer tasks, things they could set up ahead of time or do while no one was looking. A Shooter was special. It was a kid who usually targeted those spiffy children who cared about their appearance. Try the president of Student Council or the Head Cheerleader, people who, if they got a single blemish, let alone stain, would break down, though in a school like X, most kids could be counted in that percentile so it would be even harder to mark them. It would have to be someone with initiative, the tools would have to be precise and the kid would have to have good aim to get the condiment or paint in a prime position, and usually it wouldn't be just one hit but a series of them, the Shooter taking advantage of the initial confusion to quickly get in a couple more shots before quickly disappearing from the scene of the crime.

The shots wouldn't only confuse the target and hurt their image, but it would make them scared. It wasn't often that it happened only once, or that it happened to only one person, and the chaos that it resulted in was what the Shooters thrived on

Fillmore himself had only seen two. Cody Iluminum and Brad Kisser, both after the same thing at different times, the destruction of the Student Counsel, they had been taken out early on, but they had gotten what they wanted, the Student Counsel was a wreck for the next month and a half.

Ingrid had never had to deal with one on this side of the belt. Back at her old school she had dealt with a few, even helped out a couple, causing distractions whenever necessary, so she knew the damage it could cause, given the chance.

Which is why the pair wasted no time in making tracks to the second story journalism hall, which was where the shooting had taken place. The hall was home to the journalism class and club, along with the public speakers committee and the debate class and club. It was virtually never empty, the occupants were always practicing and roaming the halls around this part of the school.

"What's the situation?" Fillmore asked Anza as they approached the scene.

"The target was Tucker Miles, co-captain of the second division of the Debate Team," was Anza's response, "He's pretty shaken up, Fowley took him to the nurse to be checked out. The projectile was a paintball, the acrylic kind, there's no way that stains ever coming out," he looked around, "my bet is, Miles will be out for a week, maybe more, and we can't be sure he's the only one they're after."

"The Debate Team just went to their first competition, maybe a person who didn't make the team or was rooting for the other?" Ingrid mused, "His other teammates were Sydney Colyen, Mark Riley, Hank Dun and the Weisner triplets."

"We'd better check there first."

**The Next Day**

"The whole teams alibis checked out," Fillmore said as he and Ingrid looked at the news report on the Debate Teams victory, "The triplets were all sick on the day of the shooting and Mark and Sydney were both seen at their science class within two minutes of the shooting, there's no way it could've been them."

"What about Hank?" Ingrid asked as she leaned back in her chair.

"Clear, he was talking to the debate coach at the time, he ran out to see Tucker already shot with his teacher," Fillmore said as Ingrid bit her lip, "What's up Ingrid, you know something?"

"It's just a thought, but what if they hired someone to do it?" Ingrid asked, saying only half of what was on her mind. "Sydney and Mark both have friends where were pretty disappointed at not making the cut, and Tucker is the captain."

"Dog," Fillmore said in realization, "He's the co-captain, he shares the post with Hank!"

"We'd better go warn Hank," Ingrid said quickly bolting out of the office, Fillmore close at her heels.

…

"I don't see why I need protection," Hank said grumpily as Anza hovered near him, "I'm not scared of no Shooter."

"Call it, precautionary," Fillmore said.

"Yeah, plus, you won't even know I'm here," Anza said calmly, "I'm just here to make sure nothing funny happens, with your co-captain out of it you'll probably be next in line."

"Please, people always like me better than Tucker," Hank said folding his arms, "It's not that Tucker's mean or nothin', he just don't know when to shut up. He just keeps talking, it's great for debate and all, he can argue like no other, but outside of that he's just plain annoying. Though he always has done a good job on the school radio."

"Your good graces may have nothing to do with whether or not the Shooter'll be after you though," Ingrid said, "Just deal with this until we can get the case under control."

"Sure, whatever, just don't go getting in my way okay?" he said grumpily, "I've got to go talk to Coach."

He marched off and Anza followed, throwing the pair a helpless look as he disappeared behind a corner.

"Can't say I envy Anza right now," Fillmore said shaking his head.

"But Hank did bring up a good point, Tucker was on the school radio, which had been known to be very biased towards a number of clubs in this school, who's to say it could have nothing to do with the Debate Team at all?" Ingrid wondered aloud as Fillmore frowned.

"This just seems to be getting more and more complicated," he commented looking at her as she bit her lip yet again.

"Give me a hour," Ingrid said after a moment looking up to meet his eyes, "I might have something."

"What?" he asked and she shook her head.

"I'm sorry Fillmore, I can't tell you," she said giving him this pleading look, begging him to understand.

"It's about that new girl Abby isn't it?" he questioned her, "Come on Ingrid, you can tell me, I'm you best friend."

She bit her lip and nodded, and he smiled as he followed her down the hall.

"We're old friends, really old, from back when I was a delinquent," Ingrid explained as they walked down the hall, keeping her voice hushed, "but, thing is, Abby never stopped doing business as usual…"

Act 3-The Right Clue

"I thought I told you I'd think on it Ingrid," Abby said scowling as she looked at her partner, the ever present Fillmore. Fillmore, who only knew some of what was happening met her eyes evenly as she eyed him.

"Abby you need to tell us what you know," Ingrid said, "This is getting big, bigger than even the usual Shooter gig, and it's only a matter of time before it's out of our hands completely."

"It's a Shooter case," Abby said turning her gaze to Ingrid, her voice annoyed, "Seriously, how hard can it be? I mean it reeks of petty desperation and foolish envy anyways," she rolled her brown orbs as Ingrid narrowed her green ones, "Tucker's a easy target, who's to say the next ones going to be that easy?"

"Exactly our point," Fillmore said folding his arms, "We need you intel, if you have any to give that is." He gave her a challenging look.

She met his gave, he facial expression bored, "Honestly Fillmore? You expect me to fall for that one? I'm smart, smarter than you I'd be willing to bet, though I'm not quite sure about Ing still," she looked at Ingrid one last time before turning away, "I've got nothing interesting to tell you. Try looking over what you've already got Belts."

"Well that was helpful," Fillmore said sarcastically as they watched her retreating form.

"Maybe more helpful than you know," Ingrid said smirking. Fillmore turned to see her smirk and a smile grew on his face. Ingrid smirking always meant something good, especially when she had that glint in her eyes.

…

"Crackers, here it is," Ingrid said pointing to her computer screen. Fillmore looked over her shoulder at a old newspaper article, "It's all right here. Hank Dun was going to be the next voice for the school radio lost his voice at a debate competition going against Tucker Miles!"

"Dog, and you were able to figure that out from what Abby told you?" Fillmore asked surprised.

"That and this," she responded handing him a file. He opened it and looked at it questionably before his eyes widened in realization. Inside was a picture of Hank at his old school, with the Slingshot Award for accuracy.

"But what about his alibie?" Fillmore asked looking at the picture.

"Fillmore, recognize the kid next to him?" Ingrid questioned, "That's Nick Irvin, his step brother, he probably got Nick to do the dirty work!"

Fillmore nodded and whipped out his radio, before looking in surprise at his partner who had covered his hand with her own. "Hank'll be by in twenty minutes with Anza so Anza could switch out, have Bucky and the others take care of him right here and we can go get Nick," she advised.

Fillmore, seeing the logic in this, went into Bucky's office and explained the situation real quick before the two went to Nick's classroom only to discover he had been out to the bathroom when they dropped by, which lead to a chase across campus in hot pursuit.

"Ingrid, take it up high," Fillmore yelled as he chased after Nick, dodging the janitors mop bucket as it and its liquid contents flew at him, drenching him in the process. Ingrid ran on top of the solitary set of lockers that had been cleared for removal that sat in the open hallway, gaining ground when Nick was forced to shove through the mascot Lobstey and his bulky costume. Launching herself she grabbed him by the torso rolling on the ground and getting up ready to continue the chase only to see that her partner had already apprehended the felon.

Twenty minutes later they had confessions out of the both of them and two triple level 3 suspensions lined up, leaving only the paperwork for the two officers to do, though they both choose to ignore the ever pending doom of that and Folsoms ready made rant of how she would have to pay for a new Lobstey costume and how the janitor would have to be paid overtime to re-mop the floor and instead took a trip down to the behind of the bleachers, where word was, the newest dealer ran her business.

They arrived late, the interrogations had started at the very end of school so it was a good 15 minutes after school had ended, so she was about to leave when she was stopped by the two Safety Patrollers.

"I didn't sell them anything officers," she said holding up her hands as she gave them a lazy smile, "you can check the school security cameras if you want proof."

"It's not that," Fillmore said, since he had been the one who insisted they come, "we just wanted to say, thanks."

"For what?" she asked shrugging her shoulders, "Last I checked I didn't give you guys any information, I don't work with belts Fillmore, I just do what I do."

"Well keep doing it," he said smiling, "it's quite the business."

"You know, I just might," she said then smirked, "but not 'cause you said so, belt. My business is my business."

**Review and you'll get more! Don't and… well it'll stay a simple one shot =P This was written between the hours of 11 and 2 at night, so my writing style may be a little different next time around**

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